Stolen Souls (boy x boy)

y handcuffs shatter w

ht side, so does t

h the stem of my half-bursting brain. Bruce Lee says water is fluid, and no crap, but at

ng away like a boiled potato's. And in that haze, I feel the water's pull, grasping at my ankles, filling my smashed lungs. Pi

way as I fade deeper into

*

ky, bringing on streaks of gold and pink in their wake. The sun. My stomach plunges three feet and I scramble up. At least, I try to scramble up. My limp leg still dangles as I crawl on the

rd-packed, gray clumps that smell of rotten fish and

ing. The river is Spiral's. It doesn't even have a name, at least, none we can re

m not little bloated chunks sunken with the skeletons down at the bottom of the riverbed, but I can't find the energy to care. The stench of chemicals and acid burn clings to my clothes. T

coarse sand gives way to even coarser greenery, crumbly and brown grass poking my exposed 'til it leaves scratches. I find a broken p

el and plastic. It blazes orange in the dawn like each scrap is aflame. I smile weakly. Vampire. Arrest. Jules. The words flood my mind, but I try to force them back as I make my

brought their sciences and languages and customs and Spiral was, well, it was supposedly great. Then the walls came up and it wasn't so great. But in the beginning, so many people came that blocks and blocks of a

earned to walk with my head low and my hands in my pockets. When you look like me, it's hard not to attract attention. But I try. If I could become invisibl

meet their eyes and hold up my head and blow those judgments so f

ess that's just w

on the other. Shatters of glass that once belonged to windows lace the street, gaping holes left where once beautiful wares were sol

down the street. I follow it like

their hand on my shoulder. I feel a shudder race through me. N

s out the words. My heart slows a little and I sigh.

, a l

I don't mind. Not as much as I do when Jules is the

stle with liquid strength. Kite really swung herself a knockout with Roslyn. Not that Kite isn't

ool heartthrob and our quarterback ended up shafted, Kite's doing. Too many crumpled newspapers with Roslyn's pretty face, Rosyln this, Roslyn that. Even if you throw awa

"I fell into the

y sun. Her eyes glitter like jewels in her heart-shaped face. She looks as if she'

y leg stopp

e walks beside me, tapping a finger to h

s a beat. "That wou

f her Serpents hoodie, and she doesn't seem to mind. Roslyn is built like a horse. She's only sixteen, but she's a kicker for the Spir

ms the street beneath me, and I feel a rising prick of pain in my chest. The ri

lls me to a stop in front of Lin's Bakery, its red neon 'OPEN' sign flash

doorway and Roslyn leans on her toes, pointing a thin finger at the display window. "You know, when I turn eighteen, I want to own that." When I look up, the glow of a smile on her face is unmistakable. She looks ethereal almost, fram

ty tool people use to do their dirty work. It took me a while to learn this, and though Kite always knows the perfect remedy to Roslyn's bouts of existential crisis, I don't. I can

ules comment—he is a rich brat, I can say that first hand—but I feel a protest well up in the back of my throat. She pokes me in the

O

houlder to keep up. Her fingers brush through my hair and a blush rises in my cheeks. My braid fell out when I hit the water

s me on the side o

ing to say is that you d

lie, but it feels nice to shoot something back. She snorts and

ncient building looks like every other on the block, like it's about to topple, bricks pushed to the side, green and yell

"R-Roslyn?" My voice cracks. I

, a low growl in her voi

lide over the gray door. My knees knock. The bass thumps betwe

hobble up to the bra

tomach and chest smolder. First vampires, then Jules, now this. I shove Roslyn back and

re cr

, the thick, twisting smoke, the paintings and TV torn from the wall. Panic wells up inside,

ee my best friend collapsed on